


filthy as you

by tgrsndshrks



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dildos, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Porn Watching, Sex Work, Webcams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgrsndshrks/pseuds/tgrsndshrks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>That’s not the weird part. The weird part is that the guy has the same Creature From The Black Lagoon poster over his bed as John does.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>or, john's a sex worker on tumblr. brian is a client. john doesn't know brian is a client. brian has a lot of feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	filthy as you

**Author's Note:**

> once again, i have no excuse for this
> 
> shout out to zahra and julia for supporting my various writing endeavors, no matter how much trash i produce
> 
> title from slutgarden by manson u kno the drill
> 
> DISCLAIMER (added to author’s notes of all fics w/ twiggy in them on nov. 13 2017): i no longer support jeordie white/twiggy ramirez after he was accused of rape and sexual assault/harassment by several people, particularly an ex girlfriend. i’m not sure if i’m going to leave these fics up on my page or orphan them, but i want to publicly state that as a Real Life Person, i do not fuck with twiggy at all anymore and will not be including him in fics from hereon out. i do not endorse his behavior and the character in this fic is a completely fictionalized character, independent of the real life jeordie/twiggy.

The whole thing starts out innocently, or at least as innocently as looking for gay porn on the internet is.

Brian would normally go on one of those pop-up ad riddled tube sites, or go torrent something, but now he feels bad about it. John had given him and Jeordie and Pogo this whole lecture about stealing from sex workers last time they crashed in Brian's basement, and how the porn industry would crash if people keep stealing porn. He'd been waving the joint around, gesticulating about it, “how do you expect them to keep making porn when all people do is steal it,” and Brian had just waited for John to sigh and finally pass the joint back to him. John had gotten through to him, apparently, because now he can't open one of those tube sites without feeling a little stab of guilt.

Which is how he'd ended up going down the Tumblr wormhole, making one just so he could follow a bunch of independent sex workers on their blogs. He's just found some new blog, and he's about three posts down when shit gets weird.

It’s a photo, and Brian spends a few seconds looking at it before he furrows his brows. The guy’s wearing a sweater too big for him with black stockings and nothing else. He’s knelt on the bed, the curve of his ass round and pale against black sheets, the photo cropped at the shoulders. That’s not the weird part. The weird part is that the guy has the same Creature From The Black Lagoon poster over his bed as John does. Brian scrolls back up, reads the guy’s sidebar.

_John. 20-something. He/Him. SoCal. Queer guy. Sex worker.  
Likes: guitar, horror movies, people who buy my porn._

Okay, so there have to be a ton of guys in Southern California named John who like horror movies and play guitar and make porn, right? Brian frowns at his laptop, clicks to see more photos of him.

Shit. It totally _is_ John.

There’s the first photo of him in the stockings, but in the second one, a gif, he’s wearing his favorite vintage Van Halen t-shirt he nicked off eBay last year, and those are definitely John’s tattoos. Brian stares at the words _1984 World Tour_ shifting with the movement of the gif for a solid ten seconds before he finally lets himself look at John’s cock. Shit. It’s nice. Of course it’s nice, he thinks, he makes porn. Brian scrolls some more, passes more photos of John’s ass than he ever thought he needed to see. Wanted to see? 

Brian doesn’t have anything on his blog, so he figures it can’t hurt to follow him.

-

It becomes a habit, checking John’s blog. Every night Brian types his URL into the search bar and looks at what he’s posted or reblogged for the day. There’s usually some porn reblogs, a couple messages answered, and maybe a new selfie. Brian figures out that John posts a new video for sale at least twice a week.

The first couple times it had been an accident. Just a reflexive boner from looking at too many gifs of John jerking off but never coming. It’s on purpose now, a nightly routine, and Brian’s just about exhausted all of the free content on John’s blog. He checks his bank account, clenches his jaw, and somewhat reluctantly messages John.

_Hey, so, I’m interested in the video with the dildo riding in the Slayer shirt. How do I get the money to you?_

Brian stares at the message for a solid two minutes before he finally sends it. John takes all of about thirty seconds to reply privately with his email and the words “amazon gift card” punctuated with a smiley emoji. Shit. Is John laying in bed on Tumblr right now too? Fuck. Brian scrambles to send the $12 gift card before his dick practically explodes. Brian messages back confirming he sent it, and after an agonizingly long wait of not more than a minute, there it is, the Dropbox link and another smiley emoji from John.

Brian forgets to reply. He just opens the video, turns his phone so he can watch it widescreen, and gets his dick out. He's already hard before John even comes into the frame. There's no way Brian's gonna make it through the entire nine minutes of footage without losing it. 

John's wearing nothing but the Slayer shirt, climbing into frame and hiking the shirt up a bit as he arches, showing off his ass. He leans across the bed, gathering the dildo and lube, head turning out of frame as he looks back to check that the angle is good. John lubes his fingers, the bottom half of his face dipping into frame as he sinks two of them into his ass, and Brian nearly drops his phone. He's not sure whether to watch John's mouth as it falls open or John's fingers, smearing lube messily over his hole. Either way it's too hot. It's like staring directly into the sun, looking at John's ass. John grabs the dildo, holds it between his legs with his clean hand. It's a big dildo, one of those realistic looking ones, but it's too thick to actually look like a real dick. Brian's working himself slowly, lazily, as John starts to sink down onto the toy, mouth opening again and a moan slipping out. Oh, shit. It's a video, he suddenly remembers. There's sound. Brian nearly loses it, John's voice barely familiar in the soft noises he's making as he struggles to hilt the toy.

“Shit,” John hisses, starting to move in earnest, the dildo practically splitting him open. Brian swears under his breath, watching as John slowly works up his pace. He's already fucking close, and there's still six minutes of video left. Dammit. Brian skips forward, watching the sped up video till John turns around in the frame, still riding the toy but facing the camera, one hand holding the dildo and the other around his cock. He plays it normally again, and John's moaning for real now, blonde hair falling down on one shoulder as his head rolls to the side, face still just out of frame, but it's so unmistakably John, and Brian's close. John's riding the dildo easily, taking all the width with seemingly no difficulty, and for a moment Brian can't help imagining it's John on his own cock. Brian comes before John does, spilling messily over his fist, a moan slipping through gritted teeth. He lays there, catching his breath, watching till John finally loses it too, rucking his shirt up to avoid coming on it when he spills.

Brian goes to shut the video off, but John starts to crawl towards the camera, and he starts sucking the cum off his fingers. Brian whines out loud, closes the video. He takes his boxers off and wipes up his mess, chucking them in the direction of the laundry pile before he passes out.

-

Brian amasses a small collection of John's videos. He keeps them in a folder somewhere within a couple other folders, just in case Jeordie needs to go on his laptop for something.

It turns out that John is kinkier than he expected. Aside from all the ass play, John's made his fair share of spanking videos, videos where he wears panties and thigh highs, ones where he smokes, a couple ones where he refers to the viewer as “sir”, and one where he dumps hot candle wax all over himself. Brian has gotten off to that one more times than any of the others, mostly because John makes the nicest pained noise when the first splash of wax hits his chest.

Brian's started actually using his blog. It's still mostly blank, and his profile picture is just his hand holding a joint, but he reblogs some of his favorite pictures and gifs of John. It's mostly for himself. He's caught entirely off guard when he actually gets a message, and when he checks it, he's even more shocked. It's John.

_Hey :) thanks for liking and reblogging and buying so much of my stuff!! I have a snapchat now, if you want that for $25 xo_

Well. It's half his weed money for the pay period, but he figures he'll bum off Jeordie with the excuse that he's been actually buying porn for once.

Brian buys it. 

John's Snapchat is basically what he'd expect it to be, just with a lot more bathroom mirror nudes between the snaps of John's guitar and the occasional picture of a lit blunt between his black nailed fingers. John takes this one particular selfie in his bathroom. He's wearing nothing but black panties with white lace trim – _fucking panties_ , Brian thinks to himself – and sitting on the edge of the sink. Brian screenshots it automatically, because holy shit, it's John in panties, and then the notification pops up.

_grindhouseagogo is typing...  
grindhouseagogo: hey! I see you screenshotting ;)_

Shit. 

_miserymachine: Couldn't help myself. Do you mind?_

It's infinitely strange to be talking to John without John knowing he's Brian, Brian decides.

_grindhouseagogo is typing..._  
grindhouseagogo: nope! screenshot away!  
grindhouseagogo: you paid for it. wanna cam? $5/min

God, Brian really wants to cam with him.

_miserymachine: I would, but I'm a little shy is all._

That's a goddamn lie.

_grindhouseagogo: you don't have to come on cam! lemme know if you want me to put a show on for you sometime xo_

Brian has to lay down for about ten minutes, reminding himself that this is John's job. He doesn't really care about him. He just wants his money.

-

John comes over without any warning the next day. He's wearing the same Slayer shirt from the first video Brian bought of him. Jeordie rolls a blunt that's entirely too large to be functional and sits on the floor. John tucks his legs up under himself on the couch, phone sat on his thigh. It's too far for Brian to read it when it lights up, but it lights up often. Jeordie puts some shitty Netflix horror movie on and passes John the blunt.

“Brian made me buy weed this week because he blew all his weed money on porn,” Jeordie says, leaning back against the couch.

“Oh my god,” Brian says, covering his face. John grins, his laughter coming out all smoke. 

“I see my stoned rant from a couple weeks ago rubbed off on you,” John remarks, passing the blunt to Brian, who takes it begrudgingly. 

“Yeah,” Brian says, wanting to avoid the discussion as much as possible. “Just felt like an asshole going on tube sites after what you said about stealing and shit. Jeez.” He takes a very grouchy hit, holds it in.

“Who are you buying from?” John asks, and Brian nearly chokes on the smoke in his lungs. “I mean, you don't have to tell me who, exactly. I just meant like, a subscription to a website or if you're buying videos from someone independent. Sheesh.”

“The second one,” Brian says, holding the joint for Jeordie to take. “Don't give me shit. Jeordie's the one who's still torrenting from Cocky Boys.”

“You did not have to throw me under the bus like that,” Jeordie says, John shoving him with his boot.

“Buy a subscription,” John says, and Jeordie swats him away.

“I have to buy weed now since Brian's not buying it,” Jeordie says. John scoffs. 

“Fine,” he says. “If I start buying then you have to get a subscription and quit stealing shit.”

“I hate you and your ethical porn viewing business,” Jeordie says, giving him the joint anyway.

It goes quiet for a bit except for the occasional buzzed laugh from Jeordie at the film. John's mostly on his phone, and Brian can't help wondering if he's doing work stuff on it. Brian watches as John seems to take a selfie, mouth around the joint, taking a hit and then letting the smoke curl out of his mouth as he sighs. He passes the joint to Brian, types on his phone, then sets it down.

Brian's phone vibrates very loudly on the arm of the chair.

John looks up, not his whole head, just his eyes, as Brian silently attempts to learn teleportation or sink into the couch and hide between the cushions and never come out again, or at least until John leaves.

Brian tries to play it cool despite the fact that he can practically hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in his head, glancing down at his phone even though he knows what the notification is.

_Snapchat just now  
from grindhouseagogo _

Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck._

Brian feels John's eyes on him but he's mercifully silent. Brian just clicks the lock button so he doesn't have to stare at that condescending little ghost taunting him for being a stupid fucking idiot. When Brian glances over at John, he's looking back down at his phone again. Brian sucks down a much needed hit off the blunt before holding it out to Jeordie for a solid ten seconds.

“Hey,” Brian mumbles, nudging Jeordie with his shoe. “Take the thing.”

“Oh shit,” Jeordie says. He takes the blunt. “Sorry. I'm really fucking high.”

If John knows, he doesn't say anything.

Brian waits till John's passed out on the couch next to Jeordie on the floor. He sneaks off to the bathroom and watches John's snap, his mouth full of smoke and three green heart emojis. 

-

Brian knows he fucked up when he opens John's snap story one day to a clip of him sinking a pretty jeweled plug into his ass and Brian thinks to himself that John has cute knuckles.

-

It takes another month, but Brian eventually makes a Skype. They plan it over Snapchat, and Brian prepays John for his ten minutes ahead of time. He asks John to wear the black panties with the white trim because apparently panties are a thing for him now. Or maybe just when they're on John.

Brian plugs his headphones in and waits for John to get online.

He doesn't – he calls Brian first, appearing offline, which makes sense when Brian considers it. He's careful to answer John's call just viewing his video. The last thing he needs is John figuring out who he is at this point.

“Hey,” John says, knelt in front of the camera, face just out of frame. “I'm glad I finally got you on Skype. I have a surprise for you.” He comes up on his knees, pulls his oversized Ramones shirt up enough to show that he's wearing the panties. John's already hard in them, and Brian types as John pulls his shirt off.

_Those look perfect on you_

“Thanks,” John says, the smile audible in his voice. “That's not your surprise though.” He turns around and leans over, the familiar angle of his jaw visible in the frame as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of the panties, peels them down to reveal the same pink jeweled plug from his Snapchat story. Well, the base of it.

“Fuck,” Brian says out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he wasn't already hard then he definitely is now.

“You like it?” John asks, his fingers gripping the base and slowly pulling it out. He holds it out of the way to show how stretched open he is before pushing it back in with a soft moan.

This is entirely too much for Brian to handle. If watching John fuck himself on video was like staring into the sun, then watching him do it on webcam is like staring into the universe's largest supernova.

_Uh, fuck yeah._

It's all Brian can really manage to type. John just laughs, a quiet one more to himself.

“Hey, so, I can't really read the tiny Skype font from this angle,” John says, still absently toying with the plug. “Wanna come on audio and talk to me? I like being talked to during Skype shows.”

There go those Kill Bill sirens again. Brian rubs his eyes, considers it for about half a second, and clicks the button to turn on his microphone.

“Listen,” Brian says. “Before you say anything, I just want to preface this with the fact that I have absolutely no explanation for this.”

John doesn't say anything at first, just sits down on his hand and the plug, waiting for Brian to say something. Brian doesn't.

“Brian?” John asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Brian says.

John's quiet again for a moment, but he doesn't move.

“Dude,” John says. He reaches for the camera, adjusts it up so his face finally comes into frame, and there he is, looking surprisingly not angry. “How long have you been a client without me noticing?”

“Um,” Brian says, considering it. “Like, two months.”

“Asshole,” John laughs. Brian can't help cracking a smile when he does. “Whatever. You already paid for your time. Might as well keep it going.”

“You're not mad at me?” Brian asks, the words coming out before he really thinks about them.

“Not really,” John says. “I mean, I wish you'd told me, but. I'm getting paid either way, so.” Brian laughs once, and John adjusts the camera again, smiling. “Okay, but really, I'm gonna get back to what I was doing and you just... talk to me, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian says, biting a knuckle as John shifts back around, the panties still halfway off. He comes down on all fours, letting his face stay in frame as he reaches back to pull the plug out again. He replaces it with his fingers, two of them.

“Stop jerking off and talk to me,” John says, laughing. Brian makes a noise.

“I don't even know what to say,” he admits. “I don't really ever do this?”

“So I'm the only one you've been buying from then?” John remarks. “That's flattering.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Brian says. “Don't make fun of me while you're fingering yourself. Jesus Christ.”

“You've been getting off to my videos then,” John says, adding a third finger. “Knowing it was me.”

“I,” Brian stutters, “yeah. I have.”

“You think about fucking me?” John asks, and Brian's shuffling his things, moving the laptop onto the bed next to him and undoing his belt. “Fuck, you're gonna get off too. Okay.”

“Yeah,” is all Brian says. He watches as John shoulders his weight, his free hand reaching into the panties and wrapping around his cock.

“Do it with me, okay?” John says. “Fuck the time. I don't care how long it takes.”

“Okay, yeah,” Brian says quickly, working himself. John's doing the same thing, his fingers still working himself open.

“But you've thought about fucking me,” John says, answering his own prior question. “Right?”

“Yeah, I have,” Brian says, and John smiles on the screen. “Was I not supposed to with all the dildo riding videos?”

“That's the idea,” John says, sitting up and pushing the panties down and off. “M'gonna do that right now.” He disappears out of frame for a moment, then there's the sound of a drawer opening and closing, and then John reappears with his toy and the same bottle of lube from every video. “Mind if I think about you?” John remarks, as he's squeezing lube out into his hand and slicking up the dildo.

“Of course not,” Brian scoffs, slowing his pace to focus on John. He stays facing the camera, his cock hard and visibly leaking as he sinks down onto the length. “Fucking hell. That's good.”

“Yeah?” John asks, the smile obvious in his voice. “M'sure you look good too. I should come over tomorrow and make you fuck me right on the couch.” Brian lets a moan slip out, his grip tightening.

“You're one hell of an exhibitionist,” Brian remarks. “You want Jeordie to catch us?”

“Not really,” John says. “Just like the risk of it. Like showing off.” He's riding the toy in earnest now, his cock resting hard against his thigh, rocking with the movement. “I do want you to fuck me though. Whether it's on the couch or your bed.”

“Fuckin' slut,” Brian says, and John moans out loud, increasing his pace. “You like when I call you that?” John nods quickly.

“Fuck, yes,” he says, grabbing his cock with his free hand. He works himself quickly. “Do it again, _please_.” And Brian's not usually one for talking dirty, but, well, John's begging for it. Literally.

“C'mon, slut,” Brian says, grip tight and quick on his cock, and John visibly shudders. “Keep going. Keep riding that dick like the slut you are and you're gonna make me come just watching.” John grits out a moan, laughs softly.

“I want you to,” John says, lube slick hand moving easily up and down his length. “I wanna hear it. Please.” Brian can feel it pooling in his hips, fucks up into his hand.

“I'm gonna,” Brian says, coming with a rough moan as he spills into his fist, hips jerking up off the bed.

“Fuck yes, _yes_ ,” John keens, reaching his own end soon after, coming across his thigh and his stomach and his fingers, riding it out as Brian does. Brian's about as drained as he's ever been after an orgasm. John just kind of falls back into his pillows, his hand still holding the dildo inside of him and the other in his mouth as he licks his fingers.

“I don't really think you're a slut,” Brian says, as soon as he remembers how to make sentences.

“Yeah, I know,” John says, sighing as he tosses the dildo off to the side. He grabs the panties, wiping up his mess. “I am gonna come over tomorrow. Even if Jeordie's there.”

“Yeah?” Brian asks, yawning. “Okay.” He watches John put on a clean pair of underwear and tidy his hair up a bit in his webcam. 

“I have another cam show scheduled soon,” John says. “I'll text you.”

“Already?” Brian asks. “I mean. You just came.”

“It's not a cumshow,” John sighs. “Can't tell you though. Client confidentiality and shit.” He smiles.

“Damn you and your ethical business decisions,” Brian says. “Okay. Text me.” John hangs up the call. 

All in all, Brian figures things could've gone worse.

-

John comes over the next day. He kisses Brian in the doorway and shoves a wad of fabric in the front pocket of his leather pants. When Brian looks down, there's a bit of white lace trim sticking out.


End file.
